


But Baby, I Just Need One Good One To Stay

by KhakiAnnie



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: 2017 NHL All-Star Game, Anal Sex, Coming Out, Fluff and Angst, Gay Bashing, Homophobia, Hurt/Comfort, It goes a bit beyond just a hockey fight, M/M, Masturbation, Mild Kink, Mild S&M, Oral Sex, Pining, The fight scene is violent and caused by homophobia, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-17
Updated: 2017-04-17
Packaged: 2018-10-20 03:29:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10653972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KhakiAnnie/pseuds/KhakiAnnie
Summary: "Well, how bad is it?" John asks after a few minutes of nuzzling Sam's chest."The media?"John hums."Moderate. We could probably still get away with the whole ‘childhood friends' bit if you want.""I think I want breakfast," John says matter of factly.





	But Baby, I Just Need One Good One To Stay

**Author's Note:**

> THERE IS VIOLENCE IN THIS FIC!!! That violence is caused by homophobia! You have been warned. If you can't handle it, don't read it. I warned when I posted it and I'm warning AGAIN. 
> 
> So, I wanted to write a pairing other than 1988, and I really (like super really) love Sam Gagner. Leyna said that I should just try 1000 words on Sam and John. Honestly, I was not thrilled with the idea of writing John, at all. Of course, as it always happens, I fell totally in love with him. In return, you get 12k words on the All Star Game and John's chivalry. Total babe...
> 
> I hope to write more of these two, as they have quickly become my favorites. They are so underappreciated! 
> 
> Thanks to Leyna leyley09 for everything she did to help with this! She has some good things in the works that you are not going to want to miss!! So be watching for that!!
> 
> Please enjoy and shout at me about all the love you have for John and Sam, if you want. They are so cute.
> 
> Title taken from Lady Gaga's Million Reasons, which fits this perfectly.
> 
> See end notes for violence warnings.

It's too early on a Tuesday in January, the morning after the All Star game rosters were released, when John's phone vibrates itself off the nightstand. _Better be Sam._ He blindly searches for it in the space between the bed and the nightstand with his right hand, until his fingers find the charging cable, and pulls it up. He swipes to answer and sighs into the phone.

"Hey there, Hollywood, what're you wearing?" Sam purrs in his ear.

"Absolutely nothing," John says with his face smashed against his pillow and sounding sleep-muzzled. The pillow is wet from where he was drooling just a few minutes ago.

"Fuck. I love it when you sleep naked," Sam whispers to him.

His left hand reaches over to the cold, empty side of the bed- _Sam's side of the bed_ -wishing he was there to smell and to touch. He wants to bury his nose in Sam's hair and touch the bare expanse of skin covered in perfect freckled imperfections.

John huffs through a smile, and his voice is gravelly with sleep and honesty as he tells him, "God, Sam, I miss you."

"Say it again, baby..." Sam begs breathlessly in the soft, deep tone he reserves only for John--the one that never fails to rile him up.

John rolls onto his back, palming his morning wood and running his middle finger down his perineum to his hole, "I need you. I love you, Sammy. Fuck. I miss your hands...your cock," he whines, pushing the tip of his finger inside. It's dry, but the drag is just what he needs--what he wants. He wants to feel it. Wants Sam's cock in him, grounding him the way only Sam can.

Sam makes a hiss on a sharp intake of breath through clenched teeth. "Fuck, babe, I want you. God dammit! I gotta go. I gotta go. I'll call you back. Boarding. I love you."

"Sam? Sammy?" John pulls the phone from his ear and looks at it -- shakes it, "...you gotta be joking."

John looks down his naked chest and belly at his dick apologetically and snaps a picture with his hand wrapped tightly around it. Only the shiny head and wet slit are visible. He opens their text thread and hits send.

He comes in an embarrassing amount of time. His thoughts take him back to a hot weekend they spent alone at the family cabin on the lake last summer. They barely left their bed and never bothered to dress the entire time. This memory is John's favorite, and it's forever earning interest in his spank bank.

When John has finished cleaning himself up, he gets up to hit the treadmill. He pops in his earbuds, hits play on his "I Miss Sam" list, and runs until he's soaked and pathetic.

The shower after washes away the sweat and soothes the ache that runs through his bones from his heart. It's been a long season already, knowing Sam is based in the same time zone, not as close as Philadelphia was, but still...

Days off are the worst. No one with him to pass the time. It would be easier to be in love with a woman. _God damn, would it be easier._ But that's not what life has given him. Life threw him a beautiful brown haired boy with big hazel eyes and adorable ears that stick out. A boy he shared every first with from 8 years old and on. He's loved Sam for most of his life, and by God, that boy loves him back. Through different time zones, postal codes, teams, and trades, Sam has always been there. Faithful and never wanting anyone else. Just John.

He wanders around his house eating a banana and looking at pictures and milestones of his and Sam's life. Youth hockey medals, trophies, draft day photos, and promises. Moments on the backyard rink and fishing trips on the lake by the cabin, Christmases and birthdays all frozen in time in every room of his house.

None of the guys ever ask about the pictures when they come over. No one teases him or questions why he doesn't have a girlfriend, a wife, someone to come home to at the end of a long road trip. His answer would always remain the same--hockey. He has hockey-and Sam-what more is there?

_Children of our own, Sam. A dog, a house, a family._

That's what they talk about on marathon sex nights when they collide in the same city for a night. How many kids they want and what they will name them. What kind of dog? Will their sons play hockey? Will their daughter? Because that's what they want -- 2 sons and a daughter. Only one girl to love more than they love each other.

The pain and loneliness well back up, so he calls his mom.

"I miss him, and I'm tired of hiding, Mom."

"Honey, what does Sam want?"

"Hockey. He wants hockey, then me when hockey doesn't matter anymore."

"What do you want, John?"

"Sam…then hockey."

"All love comes with a compromise. You have to decide if you can compromise. That will end the pain one way or another, sweetheart."

"I love you, Mom."

He makes breakfast and cleans the kitchen. He still doesn't know how to find compromise by the time the counters are clean and the dishes are dry.

As he sits down at the table with a newspaper and a coffee, his phone rings.

_Sam_

"I fucking hate you." Sam's out of breath and sounding echo-y.

John's drinking coffee and watching NHL Network. He's holding the newspaper in front of him reading words he isn't comprehending because they just mentioned Sam's incredible contributions to the Jackets' offense this season. Kevin Weekes questions where "UFA Gagner will end up after this season" -- "will the Jackets spend the money to resign him?" "Doubtful" is the word the analysts use to answer that.

"Awww what's wrong, babe? You miss me? Hmm?" John asks him.

"Fuck you," Sam gasps, all breathy.

"Mmmm. Are you seriously in the airport bathroom jerking off and thinking about my dick?" John takes another sip of his coffee going for smug, but almost chokes when he hears how on edge Sam is.

"Ohhhh...fuck, sweetheart," he moans and pants, and John knows Sam is coming all over his hand. He also notices Sam called him sweetheart - a codeword- in case someone would walk in and overhear him. He feels slightly annoyed at this while wondering why after all these years they keep up this facade. It's getting old. He takes a sip of coffee and contemplates Sam's reasoning behind the continued hiding.

_If everyone just knew already, then why would it matter?_

"Feel better?" John asks him nonchalantly.

"Mmm. It's not enough. I miss you and I want to see you like now," Sam says, as John listens to the papery sound of Sam wiping himself off with cheap toilet paper. "I was sitting with Dubi on the plane when I got that picture. God, honey, we have to be careful. He almost saw it. He kept teasing me about my mystery girl and trying to grab my phone."

John is suddenly pissed. Pissed that they are still talking about this. Pissed that he aches to touch Sam. Pissed that Sam just seems comfortable enough to continue on with it.

"Fuck it, Sam. You know what? Come to LA with me. Be with me. In front of the whole world."

"What? Are you nuts? You don't think everyone will make the connection between us and figure out why I'm there?" Sam lowers his voice and continues in a harsh whisper over the sound of the running water of the bathroom sink, "You think that's a good idea in the middle of a winning season for both of us? -fuck I got come on my sleeve-"

"Your suit jacket sleeve?" John asks.

"Yes...dammit," Sam says frustrated.

"Dab it out, don't smear it," John tells him.

Sam hums in acknowledgement as he continues, "...anyway, you're not thinking about how fucking crazy that is for me to come to the All Star game with you. You're not thinking about hockey, and that's a goddamn problem."

Sam's words cut through him. There is always going to be a playoff picture. There is always going to be a winning season for one of them. There is never going to be a _good time._

His heart aches with want. "Sam, we've talked about it for years. Let's just do it. Let them assume. Let them speculate. If asked, let's just --we just won't deny-"

"No! Stop...Look, I don't know what you are thinking, but I definitely don't think that's a good idea right now."

"Why not? The NHL is talking about assigning LGBTQ ambassadors for chrissake, Sam. You don't think they'd accept us? Now is the perfect time! What is it?" And then he says it--knowing when he says it that he doesn't at all mean it but it will hurt Sam. "Are you fucking ashamed of me?"

"No!! Fuck. Why would you ask me that? You know that's not true!"

"Why? Gee I don't know, Sam William. You're giving me a million reasons. Good luck tonight. Watch Faulk. He's been hot creating looks in the odd man rush. Gotta go."

John ends the call without hesitation. It's the first time in probably ten years he has ended a call and not told Sam he loved him. A sob rises in his throat as he slams his fist down on the counter.

By 6 o'clock he's stir crazy, but Ryan bails him out unknowingly when he shows up at John's house.

"Hey, Stromer," John greets him with a quick hug at the front door.

Ryan holds up 2 bags and says, "got us some takeout like old times. Please don't make me eat it alone."

John opens the door and heads to the kitchen with Ryan in tow. "What's Sydney up to?"

"Some painting party with wine and chatty chicks. Dude, they drink a lot of wine. I don't know how they paint anything."

"Ahhh," John chuckles and gets some plates out of the cupboard.

John turns the tv on in the kitchen, and they watch the Blue Jackets and Canes game while they eat.

"How's Sammy doing in Columbus, man? You haven't mentioned him lately."

John swallows hard. _Does he mention Sam a lot?_ "He's good. Having a great season so far. I think he's leading their roster in goals right now, or close to leading."

"Right, but like how is he? Columbus is quite a ways from Philly."

_From Long Island. That's what he meant to say._

"Good. I think he likes it there. Torts is a challenge for him, but he seems alright."

"You guys are good though, right?" Ryan presses.

"Yeah, Stromer we're fine. Why're you asking so much about Gags?" John is feeling frustrated by this questioning.

"I don't know. You just seem off tonight," Ryan says as the second period ends tied 3-3. "Whatever. You wanna play some pool or something? Drink some beers? Hit the titty bar?"

"Stromer…"

"Ok fine, Cap, no titties," Ryan says laughing.

They finish a 6 pack, 3 games of pool, and the miserable 3rd period of Sam's game. John is feeling like Ryan is trying to babysit him and, honestly, is ready to get past this day. "Getting late, bud, and we have early skate."

"Yeah yeah, Johnny, I'm heading out."

"Ryan?" John says as he is walking him to the door.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for hanging out with me. I needed it."

"No problem, man. Tell Gags I said hi when you talk to him later." And with that, Ryan heads out the door.

The thing is, John wants to talk to Sam. Badly. So later, he calls him.

_Voicemail of course_

"Hi this is Sam Gagner. Leave me a message and I'll get back to you as soon as I can."

"At the tone, please record your message."

He inhales and pauses--then speaks.

"Sam. Baby. Uh, hey this is John. Uhhh, I wanted to tell you I love you and ask if you like Columbus? I'm not sure if I ever asked you if you liked Columbus. I don't ask a lot of things I should. I like Columbus whenever I'm there. There's this cool taco place called Nada by the arena, and it has a nice view of Nationwide, and I like going there with Stromer. But you and I never went there. And uh I want-I want to when we come to Columbus. You can bring someone else with us so it doesn't look like a date. But I want to take you there on a date and---I don't care what people think. But you might...fuck, Sam. Call me ok? Ok bye. Wait, Sam, I love you."

Sam doesn't call him back.

John goes to bed and stares at Sam's pillow. The _thwack thwack_ of the ceiling fan makes his eyes droopy. He never used to sleep with a fan on until he started sleeping with Sam regularly. Now he hates not having one. He thinks of Sam's shoulders and how they get goosebumps when they are in bed because of the breeze from the fan. The freckles raised up by the bumps.

_I miss Sam. I love his freckles._

  
He tosses and turns most of the night, looking at his phone several times to see if Sam texted him or called him back, but he hasn't. He checks Sam's social media, which is such a joke, because he usually doesn't update any of it. Then he checks his email for Sam's itinerary. He's on a flight to Tampa first thing in the morning. John drops his phone back on the nightstand and tries desperately to close his eyes.

Sleep comes eventually, but it's full of dreams of Sam and summer sun.

The next morning, he is eating breakfast when his world changes -- a phone call telling him that Capuano had been fired and replaced with Dougie, who will be in an interim coaching role. He tries to call Sam, but he doesn't answer. The hockey world is small enough that he figures Sam will hear the news soon, and hopefully he will call John. The call never comes.

The next 3 days go by in a fog of hazy practices and team meetings to aid in the coaching transition. A game against the Stars gives John two more goals on his tally, and he barely remembers scoring them.

John hasn't been able to talk to Sam, who isn't returning his calls. He won't even return a text. In those 3 days, he's discovered that taking the next breath without Sam in his life could be more difficult than breathing through a minute long Wingate.

On the fourth day, after winning at home against the Kings, John calls Sam...again.

It's late, and John is hoping to catch Sam at home. When Sam answers, John is shocked for a minute.

"Hey, JT....JT, you there?"

It's accepted, by now, when Sam calls him "JT", that means other people are around.

He sighs his frustration and says, "Yeah.. Yeah, I'm here. Hey, Sammer."

"What's up, buddy?"

Frustrated, John snaps, "we're going with 'buddy' now? I've been calling you for three fucking days, Sam! Three fucking days, and now you wanna be 'what's up buddy' with me? So, buddy, we gonna talk about this?"

Sam makes a smart ass noise at him. "Bad game against the Doughnut tonight?"

"No, Sam, it's not about Drew Doughty. It's about us. It's about me. It's about what has been going on in Brooklyn, and the fact that you can't even return my calls. So why don't you go somewhere that you can talk to ME?"

"Not sure I can do that right now, man, so I'll have to let you know. Alright?"

"Sam listen --"

"Yeah. Awesome, I'll talk to you later."

Then John hears nothing but deafening silence. He throws his remote across the living room, knocking over and breaking the framed picture he has of him and Sam holding the Spengler Cup trophy. That's his favorite picture of them playing hockey together.

"FUCK!"

~~~~~~~~~~~

A few days before the ASG, after a week and a half of exchanged awkward texts and reaching Sam's voicemail several times, the Jackets arrive in Brooklyn for a badly timed matchup. The Jackets are on fire, and so are the Isles.

Normally, this would be a relief, a night he was excited about, as he would get to have Sam in his bed for hours. However, Sam doesn't meet him or call him, like he usually does when they arrive at the hotel. John heads home after the late afternoon skate, alone, instead of staying with the team for a meal at the arena.

As he is laying in his bed later that night tossing and turning, his doorbell rings. The clock says 11:35pm, _awful late for an argument or a booty call, honestly._ Assuming it's Sam, John doesn't bother dressing and answers the door in nothing but his boxer briefs.

Upon opening the door, he finds his very drunk boyfriend being held up between Leddy and Saader. John checks the driveway and sees a taxi sitting there. Grabbing Sam by the front of his shirt, he pulls him inside the house, and the other two follow into the foyer.

"What's going on, guys? Saader, how are you man?" John asks. He is trying to stop Sam from pawing at his chest, but it's useless. He doesn't want to. He wants to hold him, so he stops trying to push him away.

"Great. Hey, JT, listen--" Saader begins as he and Leddy awkwardly watch Sam wrap his arms around John.

But John cuts Saader's words off before he can finish, "why'd you bring Gags to my house drunk like this? Jesus, he's trashed."

"Hi, Johnny," Sam slurs into his neck, and moves his hands to John's hips. John fights off the whine building in his throat and the urge to _touch_.

"Johnny, baby, shhhh it's ok...told 'em." Sam slurs into the side of his face, lips hot on his ear.

"Told them what, Gags?" John asks through blinking tired eyes and a thick tongue. There is too much saliva in his mouth, and he is losing his fight against keeping it together. His cock is instantly starting to swell at the sight, feel, and smell of Sam all over him. His throat clicks on a swallow, and he squeezes his eyes closed and back open.

"'Bout us...together," Sam whispers and then runs his nose along John's cheek. He kisses John's mouth, and their lips meeting makes a wet smack, as they collide and separate.

Leddy fake coughs uncomfortably shifting his eyes and feet and says, "well alright, Cap, I'm heading home." He grabs Saader's shirt cuff and slides his fingers down around his wrist, and they quickly turn for the door.

"Take care of 'im, huh? He's been having a rough few weeks," Saader says looking back at John, who realizes Leddy is still holding Saader's wrist. "He's having a hard time with," raising his left hand to gesture towards them, "this."

"Wait, Saader, you can't just leave him here--he needs--", he trails off, but it's too late, "to go to bed." The door closes leaving him in the dark foyer with a drunk Sam who is wrapped heavily around him.

"Sammy, babe, what'd you do?" John asks while running his fingers through Sam's hair and tugging on it.

"You said we should come out, so I did. Ledds loves you, he won't tell. Saader neither because they-," but Sam never finishes his thought. Instead, his mouth finds the side of John's neck, under his ear. His hands run down John's back to his ass, pulling him closer.

"Sam. Sammy. Stop. We gotta talk," John half heartedly pleads.

But Sam has other plans, obviously, as he starts pushing John's underwear down his ass, fingers pulling his cheeks apart. "Please, baby, I want you so bad, c'mon let me fuck you. It'll be so good. I'll make it so good for you," he groans, grinding his hips into John's. He's already incredibly hard against John's own barely covered dick.

Sam's mouth finds John's, and he lets Sam kiss him, tasting the sourness of liquor on his lips and tongue. His mind clouding, he allows his body to take over as he undoes the buttons of Sam's shirt, pulling it apart and baring his chest. He rubs Sam's nipples with eager thumbs and grinds back against the fingers on his ass. Sam's head lolls back, and John runs his tongue from his collarbone, up his neck, and over his Adam's apple, to his chin, closing his teeth there on Sam's beard stubble.

John's fingers fumble with Sam's belt, and he bites his earlobe, lost in the sounds Sam is making in his ear. The button on Sam's jeans pops, and John pulls the zipper apart. He finds the wet spot on his underwear where his cock is leaking profusely and teases the tip. He slides his hand into Sam's boxers and wraps his fingers around the shaft. _God, it's so warm and hard._

"Sammy, ohmygod," he whines, "you're so hard."

Sam moans and attacks John's mouth again while pumping his hips into John's hand. These kisses are not soft and sweet anymore, rather biting and full of anger, frustration, _need._ Sam's hands guide John's groin into his, and he backs him towards the couch in the adjacent living room.

When they break the kiss to breathe, John realizes what's happening as the back of his knees hit the arm rest on the couch. He snaps back to reality, pushing Sam away a little harder than he should have. "Enough! God dammit, Sam!"

Startled, Sam stumbles back and looks at him. John can see, in the sliver of street light through the blinds, that Sam's lips are wet and puffy, his eyes fixed on John's body, pupils blown. He has to squeeze his eyes shut to stop himself from pulling Sam back in, his cock achingly hard, and his heart stung by the look of rejection on Sam's face. "This isn't happening tonight, Sam. C'mon and finish getting undressed. I'll start you a shower upstairs. Then we can **talk** in bed."

John touches Sam's cheek and kisses the side of his head. He goes upstairs into the bathroom and turns the shower on. He closes the door, and wills his hard on away, resting his forehead against the back of the door. He turns on the cold water in the sink and splashes his face a few times. He stares at his reflection as the water drips off his chin and contemplates how he is going to get through this night.

About ten minutes later, the bathroom is full of steam, and John's dick is back under control, tucked firmly into his underwear. He opens the door of the bathroom and goes down the stairs to get Sam.

The living room is empty. He looks for him all over the downstairs, but finds nothing but the front door ajar.

"Fuck," he sighs. "Fuck fuck fuck!" and he punches the front door.

He urgently tries Sam's cell, but gets voicemail after a ring. Then a text comes through from him:

_**Took uber back to hotel sorry** _

He texts back:

_**We need to talk about this baby I love you.** _

But sadly, it goes unanswered. He goes to bed, but doesn't sleep.

The game the next day is a shitshow for Sam; he's hungover, angry, and sloppy. John watches as he descends to a miserable minus 2, playing nothing like he was before Christmas.

As John skates to the faceoff dot, he finds Sam across from him. He tries to make eye contact, but it's no use. When the puck is dropped, they collide hard, and he can feel Sam fighting him more than he is trying to get the puck. John wins the faceoff and sends a perfect sauce to Kulemin who scores the second goal of the game. He skates towards his bench, passing Sam on the way, and taps the back of Sam's leg with his stick. It was meant as a friendly "hello, I'm sorry," but Sam turns around and skates to him face to face, giving him a hard shove.

"You wanna go, asshole?"

"Sam, are you kidding me right now? Knock it off!"

"Go fuck yourself, Tavares, you pussy."

The linesman Tim Nowak separates them, as the crowd loudens at the exchange anticipating a fight. Hartnell has skated over now and is circling around Sam and John like a shark smelling blood in the water. "Looked like a slash to me, Timmy!" Hartnell yells to Nowak.

"Fuck you, Harts. C'mon, boys, none of this brotherly love shit today, it wasn't a fucking slash and you know it," Nowak says, and he pushes them in opposite directions.

The Isles win 4-2, and in the locker room, Leddy is staring him down.

"What?" he asks.

"Dude, what was that shit with Gags, man? What the fuck happened last night?"

"Sometimes we just don't see eye to eye on shit. Drop it, already." John heads to the shower before anything else awkward can be said.

Sam is leaving Brooklyn that night heading to Nashville. John waits outside the Jackets dressing room, like he normally does, hoping to see Sam before he leaves. When Saader comes out with Hartnell and Anderson right behind him, they stop to look at him.

"Hey, Saader, Gags still in there?"

"The fuck you want, bitch?" Hartnell snaps at him. John ignores him.

"No, he's on the bus already," Saader answers putting a hand on Hartnell's chest to hold him back.

"Can you tell him I am looking for him before you guys leave?" John asks Saader.

"Why don't you look for me instead?" Hartnell replies.

"Hartsy, just...just wait," Saader tells him. "Yeah, I'll tell him you are here."

The three of them walk past him, with Anderson bumping John's shoulder intentionally as he passes by. John closes his eyes and ignores the bump.

He waits an embarrassing amount of time after they head to the bus, but Sam never comes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Isles next game against Montreal leads to John taking a nasty hit from Shaw in the third. He doesn't feel any damage, but when he gets home, it's clear the hit has aggravated his shoulder. It's stiff and it's sore. He decides on a bath to try and soak it, and when he gets out, he has a text on his phone from Sam.

_**Looked like you were favoring your left shoulder after that hit. Get it checked johnny. Please <3** _

He will. Tomorrow.

He doesn't have the energy to respond to this text. He wants to, so badly. He doesn't have the willpower to not tell Sam he loves him and misses his face and his hands or the smell of his skin and the feel of his chest. He doesn't have the strength to hold back the tears and pain of his broken heart over this dumb fight. He knows Sam won't answer him- won't call him. It hurts worse than his stiff shoulder. He just wants to sleep.

So, he doesn't respond to the text. He's just thankful that with the All Star break this weekend he will be able to rest it a bit.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The flight to LA stiffens his shoulder back up, and he is thankful to be off the plane. He loves the All Star Game, and he can't wait to see his mom and dad. Despite the problems with Sam, he is determined to have fun and enjoy being with his family and friends from around the league. Being here with the top 100 greatest in 100 years is quite an honor as well. He only wishes Sam was here to enjoy it with him.

At the family skate, he watches everyone with their wives and girlfriends, their children, and he longs to hold Sam's hand as they laugh and take pictures with everyone. He is glad his family is here with him, but it's not the same. Not even close.

_What would it be like to just...not hide anymore. To hold his hand. Kiss him._

He puts the thought out of his head and skates through the crowd, mingling along the way. He stops to sign an autograph on a stick Colton Keith is carrying with him. He takes a selfie with Ovi, teases Subbie and messes with his hair, and signs an autograph for Jonny Toews' dad who compliments his faceoff percentage. Pierre stops him for an interview and asks if his family is proud of the work he does with the Special Olympics; his baby sister Laura overhears and crashes the interview to gush about him.

He listens to her, while watching Kaner help his girlfriend skate. They are holding hands as Kaner skates backwards. He stops to laugh and bury his nose against her ear. John watches in envy, and wishes for the thousandth time that day that Sam was here with him.

By Saturday morning, he's feeling a bit more at ease. He starting to genuinely have a good time. The skills competition is always interesting, and the boys find ways to make it a lot of fun. He thinks about how much fun Sam would have here if he could go up against Kaner in one of the skills comps, like accuracy shooting. He thinks about Sam's smile and his eyes looking bright for the cameras, Sam getting to be the star of the show for once.

He tries to call him before he heads for some lunch, but the call goes to voicemail immediately. He didn't plan on leaving a message when the voicemail came in, but he ends up leaving an awkward message of uhhhs, heavy breathing, and frustrated sighs. "Sam" the only word uttered in the whole thing.

He sits down on his bed in his hotel and calls Kelly, the Islanders' PR rep.

"Hey Kelly, it's John. John Tavares from the team."

A slight giggle prefaces, "because another John Tavares would be calling me on a Saturday afternoon?"

"Yeah, sorry. Umm- I'm just a little nervous. So..uhh..can I ask you something?"

"Sure, John, I don't have anything better to do on my day off than making you feel good about whatever is bothering you …"

"Is--Is this a bad time?"

Kelly laughs and then says, "ok I'm sorry. I was really trying to get a laugh out of you but it's clearly not working. I'm all ears, John. I promise no more smart ass comments."

"So what kind of fallout are we looking at here if one of the guys on the team ..well if he...I mean..you know? Came out? Of the closet."

"Ohhh. Well, I'm sure it'd be a great move for the team and the league especially since you and Sam are both NHL players. It would be huge."

John nearly falls off the corner of the bed, catching himself on the wall with his sore shoulder. "Ouch. Fuuuu---udge."

"Are you ok, John?" She asks, sounding startled.

"Yeah. I'm fine. No. I wasn't talking about me. Sam? Like Sam Gagner?"

"Well yeah, I mean, I just assumed you were talking about you and him. I'm really sorry."

"No way. No. Sammy and I grew up together. We are just best friends," he laughs..nervously. "I'm really just asking for a friend."

There is a pause so long that John pulls the phone from his ear and looks to see if the call is still connected. It is. "Hello? Kelly?"

"Yes, I'm still here. Listen, John, tell your _friend_ that it's ok and if he wants to talk about how he should go about it the best possible way, he should call me first. Tell him that I'd like to talk to Sam and his team's PR manager, as well. I mean, his _boyfriend._ "

"Really, Kelly, it's not me. Or Sam."

"Ok. Well I hope everything gets worked out. I hope you enjoy your weekend, John. Just make sure your _friend_ knows how important it is that we should do this the right way. We need to be prepared."

"I'll tell him. Thanks, Kelly. Bye." And he ends the call.

He tries to call Sam again, but it goes straight to voicemail. Instead of getting lunch, he falls asleep to thoughts of Sam and what he might be doing today. His optimistic view on the weekend is dwindling now like his consciousness.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He startles awake at 3 pm and after muttering several obscenities, grabs his shit and heads downstairs to catch his ride to the Staples Center. He's hungry, crabby, and just wants to go home. He's never felt this way at an All Star Game before, but he feels a million miles away from Sam.

He's quiet in the locker room. More serious than he usually is, at the ASG anyway. Once he's dressed, he wanders out into the tunnel and that's when he hears his voice. _Sam's voice._

He stands up tall and looks around heads until he finds him. There he stands, leaning against the tunnel wall, excitedly talking to Kaner.

The first thing John notices is that Sam's eyes look dark like he hasn't been sleeping. His beard has grown in quite a bit, and John wants to runs his fingertips through it. But most noticeable is that Sam is wearing a blue zip up hoodie and a soft blue shirt underneath. John can see the orange of the Isles' logo peeking out, above the zipper. He swallows hard.

Sam looks up from his conversation, almost as if he could feel John's eyes all over him, and makes eye contact. He smiles, genuinely, and looks back to Kaner. Kaner misses nothing and also makes eye contact with John as he turns around to see who Sam was smiling at. He tips his chin up in acknowledgement towards John, gives Sam two quick pats on his bicep, and walks towards the mouth of the tunnel.

John waits impatiently behind everyone, as they are moving forward down the tunnel. Everyone who passes by Sam taps him or says something to him. When John finally gets there, he is completely unsure of what he should do. He freezes, but it doesn't matter because Sam pushes off the wall and wraps his arms around John's neck, even having to raise up on his tiptoes to manage it because of John's skates. John wraps his arms around Sam's body and turns his face towards his neck, inhaling deeply.

"Hi," John's says with his lips brushing against Sam's neck, then he inhales as much of Sam's scent as he can. He smells like worn leather and the lemon sage body wash he uses. It makes John ache. He wants to bury his face there and never stop breathing. He wants Sam all over him.

Sam squeezes him hard and lets go, stepping back to adjust his clothes. John can't help himself and he reaches forward to grasp the hoodie's zipper. He pulls it down, while staring into Sam's eyes. John reveals the Islanders' logo, and his fingers push the left side of the hoodie open. He reveals the "C" over Sam's heart, and shakily inhales at the thought of his name, in white, across the back of Sam's shoulders. Sam smiles and tugs on the bottom of John's jersey.

"Gonna impress me with your skills or what?" Sam asks looking up through his eyelashes.

John takes a step closer and cocking his head to the side, he looks down at Sam and asks, "Will you take your hoodie off if I do?"

"Yup," Sam answers, popping the 'p'.

Doughty, who has silently been standing behind John, probably the entire time, interjects, "yeah, so are you two going to suck each others' dicks now or can we get this show on the road, cupcakes?"

John's head snaps around to glare at Doughty, as he turns to face him, and perhaps he should have rethought his reaction. Doughty smirks at him slowly and knowingly. His tongue pokes out of the left side of his mouth and he says, "oh ho ho….that's it isn't it? You two are a _thing_. Carts? Hey Cartssssy!"

Carter is a few feet beyond Doughty and looks up from his conversation with Kesler to ask, "What's up?"

"Shut the fuck up, asshole," Sam snaps from behind John.

"What's going on, Doughnut? You picking on Gags and JT?" Kesler asks, close behind Doughty now.

John stares at Doughty waiting for him to say something else, but it never comes. "Nahhh," he eventually answers to Kesler, and they walk away without saying another word.

"John-" Sam starts, but he cuts him off.

"I'm glad you're here, Sammy," John says, as the smile on his face reveals his rarely seen dimples.

"Me too," Sam replies and he pushes his thumb into one of those dimples briefly as his fingers brush John's jawline.

"Time to go put on a show for you," John says lightly with a wink, as he tugs on Sam's hoodie and doesn't let go right away.

"Can't wait. I'm sitting right here, by the tunnel, with your family."

One of the event staff members, looking quite displeased and stressed out, yanks her headset off her ear and says to them, "Excuse me, Mr. Tavares, I'm sorry, but you really need to go out there. They've introduced you twice. I'm gonna lose my job if you don't move it."

John smiles at Sam and then turns to apologize to her, before walking out of the tunnel. He jumps on the ice and raises his stick in appreciation, for the non-booing fans at least.

As he skates by Doughty, Carter, and Kesler, he hears them laughing. He knows what they are laughing about, but ignores them. He takes his place at the end of the line and waits for the competition to begin.

Subbie leans backwards from a couple spaces to his left and looks at him. "Everything good, JT?"

John looks at him and then turns his attention towards Doughty as he answers PK, "it's good, Subbie."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As the skills competition gets underway, John can't take his eyes off Sam. Every free chance he has, he stares at him. He wants Sam to take that hoodie off. He wants Sam to show the world who he belongs to. Mostly, he just wants Sam.

His first shot in the passing accuracy goes wide, but he sinks the second. He moves to the second target and has 2 near misses, nailing the third. He misses twice on the third target before hitting the fourth in one shot. The crowd roars.

As all of their attention turns to watch Faulk and Sid in the puck control and stickhandling, John again finds Sam's eyes, seeking his approval. He watches intensely as Sam smiles and pulls the zipper of his hoodie down--slow. Achingly slow. John's cheeks burn and his breathing comes fast as Sam pulls the hoodie from his shoulders.

He stands before John and the world with "Tavares" branded across his back, and John whines on a hard exhale, no one even close enough to hear it. He sees his mother reach over and squeeze Sam's hand. He sees his friends strewn about the ice surface of the arena and wonders if they even realize what is happening. He sees everything, but really he only sees Sam. Unashamed. Unafraid. Unbroken.

Cheers erupt for Holtby as his end to end goal slides home. John looks away from Sam to Subbie who looks at Sam and looks back at John. His mouth open on a surprise and then a smile that reaches his eyes. When John skates to the boards, Subbie and Kaner tap him in acknowledgment. Not only for the skill session, but for ending 10 years of hiding.

When Cam skates over he bumps John and tells him, "your boy looks great in your shirt, but remind him not to get too comfortable in those colors. He's still leaving LA with me."

John laughs, certain that his cheeks are bright red.

_Your boy_

And just like that, it was over. It came without controversy. It came without pressers. It came without Bettman, or agents, or even Patrick Burke. It came and not a god damn one of their friends or teammates seemed surprised.

John watches as some of the guys skate by and chirp Sam for his clothing choice. Then, he watches in horror as Pierre has caught onto what is happening and is making his way towards Sam.

He can't look. Thank God he can't hear what is being said in that interview.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dinner with John's family takes an agonizingly long time. John's fingers keep twitching with want when he listens to Sam talk about his interview with Pierre. Sam keeps rubbing the shell of his ears and touching his neck with his fingertips.

John rubs Sam's thigh under the table and stares at his mouth when he talks. He struggles to concentrate on answering questions he's asked, and his sisters giggle when they see him stutter to find words when he loses track of the conversation. He's so gone over this beautiful man.

Sam is rubbing John's arms and touching the hand on his thigh asking, "are you feeling ok, Johnny? You look warm." His coy smile gives him away.

_Little fucker knows exactly what he's doing._

The family shows them mercy, and decides to retire earlier than they normally would, excusing Sam and John from any further time with them.

As soon as they get back to John's room and close the door behind them, John has him against the wall. He pins Sam's hands to the wall above his head with his left hand. Holding Sam's jaw with his right hand, he turns it to bare Sam's neck. He nips down the thick cord of it and licks at the base. Sam's hips are grinding forward trying to meet his and looking for friction. They are breathing so hard. John feels overheated.

Finally, he allows Sam's groin to make contact with his, both of them hard and rubbing off on each other through their pants like they used to when they were younger. They would hide behind the backyard rink boards where no one could see them and explore each other a little more each time.

"You know we can take our clothes off and do this on the bed, baby," Sam groans out on a particularly good thrust from John.

"Turn around, I want to see it," John says against Sam's ear, biting it.

"Want to see what- my ass?"

"My name, Sammy."

"Ohhhhh you like that huh? Tavares across my back? Hmmm? That make you hot, baby?"

"Fuck you." He giggles and bites Sam's collarbone and sucks a mark there in apology.

John pushes his hips forward, pinning Sam's hips to the wall, where he rocks into him feverishly. Sam moans.

"Fuck, don't stop, John. Don't stop," Sam breathes out grinding back as hard as he can.

John lets go of Sam's hands and runs both down his body to grasp his ass. He pulls him impossibly closer and drops his forehead to Sam's shoulder, slamming his hips forward.

"Let me fuck you tonight, babe, please let me fuck you," he says softly against Sam's shoulder.

"Yes," Sam says against his hair, "yes."

John reaches up and yanks the zipper down on Sam's hoodie, and roughly pulls it off his shoulders. The hoodie falls to the floor by their feet. Grabbing Sam's hips, he pulls him forward and spins him around. He puts his hand between Sam's shoulders and pushes him forward into the wall.

Sam makes an "oof" noise as his body hits the wall. "Fuck, Johnny, you wanna get rough hmm?"

John's fingers trace his name on Sam's back, and when he completes the S, he grabs the collar of the shirt and pulls Sam back against his chest. Sam's head falls back against his shoulder. John's left hand grabs his neck and holds him steady as he gets right against his ear and says, "that's my name on your shirt." John emphasizes the "my" by pushing his cock against Sam's ass.

"Yes," Sam hisses through his teeth, "does that make you hot, babe?"

"Fuck. You have no idea." And he bites the join of Sam's neck and shoulder -- hard enough to sting, he hopes.

"Ahh," Sam groans, "yeah fuck, Johnny, mark me up."

John's hands snake around Sam's waist to the front of his jeans where he quickly pops the button and pulls the zipper down. He backs up a step and pulls his own shirt off, over his head, messing up his hair. He sinks to his knees behind him, taking Sam's jeans and underwear down with him.

Sam gasps and grabs his cock at the feeling of being so exposed suddenly.

"Shoes, baby. Step out of your shoes."

Sam does his best at toeing off his Nikes without losing his balance. Then John demands he step out of his pants and underwear, tossing them to the side. John leans forward and bites into the soft flesh of Sam's right ass cheek. Hard.

"Hands off yourself," he commands Sam.

"Oh my God, Johnny. Ouch, fuck!" Sam cries out and thumps his forehead against the wall, letting go of his dick. John soothes the bite with his tongue and sucks a mark on his ass. He moves up and puts another dark purple mark in one of Sam's back dimples.

John spends minutes or hours or days, it's unclear, licking and biting everywhere he can. He looks up to see the Tavares still visibly emblazoned on Sam's back. He reaches up and grabs the shirt, while running his tongue from the bottom of Sam's ass crack to those dimples. Sam pushes back against him and reaches back down to stroke his cock.

John stands up behind him and grabs both of Sam's wrists. He puts Sam's hands against the wall and leans forward rubbing his still clothed dick against the cleft of Sam's naked ass. "No, no," he purrs into Sam's ear. "Hands up against the wall. I'll touch, not you."

"Then touch me, you asshole. I'm so fucking hard."

John reaches down and grabs Sam's hard leaking cock and squeezes.

"Yeah," Sam pumps his hips and moans, "please. More."

John doesn't immediately give him more. He asks Sam, "who do you belong to, baby?"

"You, John, always you. Fuck. Please."

"Is that why you wore my shirt tonight? You wanted to show everyone in the arena that you get to fuck me? Who I belong to?"

"Y-yes," Sam stutters, because now John is rubbing his thumb over Sam's leaking slit.

John puts that thumb into Sam's mouth and he sucks on it, humming in pleasure. John continues to stroke Sam's dick and tells him, "I'm gonna get on my knees, spread your ass cheeks, and bury my tongue in your hole, Sammy, until you paint the wall in your come. You aren't going to touch yourself. You got it?"

"So bossy," Sam says shakily. But John isn't joking.

"And when I have your hole soaking wet and open, I'm gonna fuck you. Hard," he tells him.

The whine that leaves Sam's throat sends chills up John's back. He can't help it - he has to kiss him.

John grabs Sam's chin, tilts his head back into what has to be a slightly uncomfortable position, and kisses his lips softly. Sam's lips are dry, and John runs his tongue along them, asking silent permission to enter. Sam's mouth opens easily for him. The kiss turns dirty quick, and John bites Sam's lower lip, again dragging a hiss from him.

Sam bumps his ass back against John's dick, and giggles into John's mouth, "well get on with it, eh?"

John drops to his knees.

Three fingers deep, and a wet face later, Sam shouts and comes all over the wall. Come drips down Sam's cock and balls, and John grabs his hips and spins him around. Sam arches his back into the wall and pushes his hips forward. John licks him from his tightened ball sac up to the tip of his red pulsing cock. Sam grabs John's jaw to hold him back, too sensitive to let him continue.

John stands up, and Sam attacks his mouth.

"Bed, Johnny, please. I want you to fuck me."

John won't turn down anything Sam asks of him. They make their way towards the bed, John unbuttoning his pants that are soaked from his leaking, untouched cock. He discards his shoes, socks, pants and boxers, tugging on his cock a few times to lighten the pressure. Sam starts to take the shirt off before John notices what he's doing.

"Leave it." John is rummaging through his bag to find his lube but still watching Sam.

"God you're so possessive, you filthy boy." Sam adds a wink.

John finds the lube and stands up. He pushes Sam backwards making him fall to the bed with a huff. He knee walks up the bed with his cock bobbing and throws the lube down on Sam's left side.

He spreads a sequence of kisses up Sam's right leg as he goes, spreading his thighs to make room to fit between them. Sam accommodates him easily and tangles his fingers in John's hair. John peers up at him from under his eyelashes and bites at the join of Sam's thigh and hip.

"Ow Jesus, John, you're brutal tonight."

John moves to the other side and licks in the same place there. He noses underneath Sam's balls and inhales deeply, licking to taste Sam where he smells phenomenal. Running his tongue up over his balls, the shaft of his spent cock, to the head that he sucks into his mouth.

"Fuck babe, easy. I'm still really sensitive--not a kid anymore," he says through a giggle.

John shows him mercy and lets his cock fall from his mouth. It twitches and starts to harden again. He licks up Sam's trail of hair from the base of his dick to his belly button and dips his tongue in there knowing it tickles. Sam laughs and grabs the sides of John's face. "Stop it, you little shit."

"Little huh? We'll see if you still think I'm little in a few minutes." John grabs the bottle of lube and pops the lid. He slicks up his cock and spreads the remaining against Sam's hole.

"Ooohh yeah?" Sam hisses at the touch of John's fingers.

"Yeah." John pushes Sam's shirt up above his pecs so it's bunched under his arms. Then, he gives a quick kitten lick to each nipple before nipping at the left one. He slides his mouth up to place a kiss over Sam's heart. John looks up at Sam, who is staring at him intently with a smile.

"Yes?"

"I love you," Sam tells him.

"I love you too, baby."

"Can I take this shirt off now?"

"No way," John answers as he runs his hands up Sam's biceps to his wrists. He pushes his arms up above his head. "Leave 'em up here, ok?" John breathes into Sam's left ear, licking the folds and outlines. He pushes his cock forward, bumping against Sam's perineum, causing him to cry out.

Sam is taking ragged breaths now and spreading his thighs impossibly wider, wrapping his legs around John's tapered waist. He pulls John's hips down with his feet on his ass. John's cock brushes against his hole, and Sam swears.

John finds Sam's mouth, and they kiss dirty and slow and sharing oxygen. He pushes the tip of his cock into Sam's still stretched hole and pulls back out. Sam's ankles drop from John's back, and he raises his hips up off the bed, begging for John's cock. John pushes it in and pushes Sam's shirt up on the right side so he can bury his face in Sam's armpit. He inhales deeply and bites at the soft flesh, burying his cock as deep as he can at the same time.

"Ohhh fuck, Johnny, FUCK!"

John fucks him hard, as promised, biting and kissing every inch of Sam that he can reach with his mouth. He fucks him until Sam is writhing and sweating. John licks at the sweat pooled at the base of Sam's neck, in the dip between his collarbones. He's thrusting as hard as his hips will allow and nuzzles into Sam's shoulder and neck, mindlessly licking.

"Jesus, John. Feels so fucking good."

John slams into him twice more after that and then pulls out, running his nose down Sam's torso and biting into the softest part of Sam's belly he can find. Sam raises his hips up; his cock brushes against John's chin. He sucks Sam's cock into his mouth and swallows him down as far as he can.

Surprised by the change, Sam cries out. It only takes a few seconds of sucking before Sam comes down John's throat while moaning his name.

John swallows it all and sits up. "Turn over, babe."

Sam turns over, and grinds his cock into the mattress, despite the sensitivity.

John grabs his hips and pulls him back, spreading his ass cheeks and pushing his cock back in. He grabs the hem of the shirt and pulls it down so he can see his number and his name on Sam's back.

"You are so fucking dirty, Johnny."

John giggles and tightens his grip on Sam's hips, leaving red marks that will bruise in the shape of fingers. "I can't fucking help it, Sammy. That's my name. On you."

John pulls out and grabs the shirt again with his left hand. He pumps his cock with his right, until he comes all over the back of the shirt.

"Did you just come all over my brand new shirt, asshole?"

John is panting and laughing at the same time. "I just made it even better."

Later, after a shower, they fall asleep tangled together for the first time in months.

Neither of them are prepared for what the morning will bring, but John gets some idea when he is up at 2:30 to piss and looks at his phone notifications.

He has a ton of texts and notifications from ESPN, TeamStream and Bleacher Report for a "Watch: Columbus Blue Jackets Sam Gagner wears a New York Islanders John Tavares shirt to root for childhood best friend at NHL All-Star Game in LA".

He ignores it all to crawl back in bed with the love of his life, for the last few peaceful hours they will probably have. Sam barely stirs when John cuddles back up to him.

A few hours later, he awakens to a persistent Sam behind him, nudging his hard cock between John's thighs and kissing his shoulders. He leans back against him and they both wrap their hands around John's cock. Sam lets go to slick himself and slides easily between John's thighs, before returning his hand to touch him. It isn't long before they are both coming. After that, they take a shower, which leads to blowjobs. By 7am, John is back to sleep.

At some point, Sam left the bed, because John wakes up lonely and cold around 9. He sees him sitting at the desk on John's laptop, drinking hotel room coffee and quietly talking to someone on his phone. His dad most likely, since they are more like best friends than father/son.

"Babe, jus' tell dad I said hi and come back ta bed," he demands in a slurred, sleepy voice.

"He already told me to tell you hi, sleepyhead."

John hears Sam say goodbye to his dad, and feels the bed dip and a hand run up his back. Sam is smiling when he looks up at him.

"Too many clothes," John whines in his sleep voice as he paws at Sam's hoodie to pull him down. Sam goes easily, and John buries his nose in his neck. "Take it off," he tells Sam.

Sam laughs and gets up to take his hoodie off, but leaves his boxers on. "Now you want me shirtless, hmm?" He wraps around John, pulling him close and kissing John's forehead.

"Well, how bad is it?" John asks after a few minutes of nuzzling Sam's chest.

"The media?"

John hums.

"Moderate. We could probably still get away with the whole ‘childhood friends' bit if you want."

"I think I want breakfast," John says matter of factly.

"Breakfast we can do, Johnny boy." Sam reaches over to the nightstand and grabs the room service menu. He sits up to order while John lays his head in Sam's lap. Sam plays with John's hair as he orders one of practically everything on the menu.

After Sam orders breakfast, they make out in bed until Sam is once again as naked as John is and hard against him. Of course, the room service arrives when Sam is throat deep on John's cock.

"Fuck," Sam says, as he pulls off John's cock leaving a trail of spit.

"No--fuck don't stop. Not now not now," John moans grabbing the base of his cock, lightly tapping the head on Sam's lips.

"Finish without me, babe," Sam says with a kiss to the tip and a wipe of his chin. John groans at him, tugging on his cock as he watches a naked Sam pulling on his boxers and a hoodie.

Sam pleads, "just a minute" at the knocker.

John comes as he watches Sam's ass walking to the door, and starts cleaning himself up right after. Sam opens the door and steps outside.

He can hear him speaking to the room service waiter, and then he's pushing the food into the room when someone in the hallway says, "Gags?"

Sam replies in a startled voice, "Hey guys."

"Hey, dude. Wait, I thought this was JT's room?"

"Yeah. He's---um--he's in bed. Still."

John climbs down to the end of the bed so he can see Sam from behind. He can tell Sam is nervous by the way he is scratching his head and tugging on his left ear when he talks.

"Goooood morning, JaayyyTee," Cam sing songs into the room.

John gets out of bed and pulls on a pair of sweats. He walks over behind Sam and slips his arm around Sam's belly and hooks his chin over his shoulder. He reaches forward and snags some grapes from the fruit bowl. Sam doesn't flinch or even make a move to dodge away from John at all. Actually, he reaches across his waist and grabs John's fingers instead.

"Hey guys," John says to Cam, Jonsey, and Bob, chewing his grapes.

The three of them stand there staring, then Cam slaps Jonesy in the chest with the back of his hand and says, "you owe me 50 bucks, asshole."

"Dammit!" Jonsey shakes his head smiling.

John is giggling into Sam's shoulder blade now, while Sam just chuckles. "Seriously?" He asks his teammates. "I hate you guys. Good luck today. We'll see you later." Sam closes the door and takes a deep breath.

"It's ok, baby," John purrs into Sam's neck. "Come on, I'm starving."

Halfway through breakfast, John's phone rings. Kelly from PR. John shows the screen to Sam and says, "Shit."

"Hi, this is John."

"John. Hi. Remember that talk we had yesterday about your _friend_ doing this the right way?"

"Yes."

"Well, _he_ didn't seem to take my advice."

"I'm really sorry about that, Kelly. Sam surprised me before the skills comp started and it just sorta happened. How bad is it?"

"Fixable. Let's get together with management from both teams and discuss a presser."

"Ok. But not until the season ends."

"John, I really think we need to cut the rumors off and do some damage control for both you and Sam. I've already spoken with PR in Columbus. We want to work on how to do this the right way. This is a big move. Not only for you and Sam, but for the entire league."

"I understand. We understand. But we want to play hockey, Kelly. Our relationship, in the closet or out, is not the most important thing right now."

"I agree, but you should be prepared on how to handle media questions in the locker room because it's going to happen, John. For both of you."

"I know. Thank you for everything, but I'm gonna let you go right now. Thanks for calling."

"You're welcome. No more surprises, Tavares, or I quit," she says laughing.

"I promise. Bye."

Sam crunches his toast, "well?"

"It's gonna be fine, baby." John says as he starts in on the eggs. "She called Columbus PR."

"I figured. I'm surprised they haven't called me yet."

"Fuck. What time is it? I gotta get moving."

"We have time to make out in bed. Naked. If you don't shower at least."

"How about we save time and make out in the shower?"

"This is why I love you, John Tavares."

Later as John is packing his bag to leave, there is a knock on the door. Sam lets John's family in. They are all wearing Tavares' jerseys. John's dad starts tying John's tie, when he sees his mom hand Sam a gift bag.

"We didn't want you to feel left out, sweetheart."

Sam's smile reaches his eyes, as he pulls a Tavares jersey from inside the bag and looks over at him. John's sisters beg Sam to put it on. So he does with a wink in his direction. And John stops breathing again.

As John's dad finishes the tie and tightens it around his neck, he says to his dad, "I think I'm gonna marry him, dad."

"You'd be a fool not to, son."

They all ride to the arena together, with John and Sam sitting in the backseat as close together as possible. They are holding hands, and Sam is entertaining everyone, as usual. John has leaned his head back against the headrest and can't stop looking at him.

He watches the way Sam's eyes crinkle at the corners, and the way his ears move when he smiles. He's fascinated by the way his neck reddens on the sides when he's excitedly talking, and he wants to kiss him there. So he does. His mom coos from the front seat -she never misses anything.

Sam stops talking to look at him when John kisses his neck. His eyes move up and down, seemingly warring between what to look at, John's eyes or his mouth. John decides he likes kissing Sam better than anything else in the world, no matter who is watching. So he does.

"Stop it!" John's sister teases.

"Yeah, we want to hear the rest of the story, moron!" His other sister yells, smacking him in the leg.

John's eyes never leave Sam's as he answers, "I can't help it."

The thing is, he means it. He really can't help it. Sam is the greatest thing in his life, and he can't help it.

Everything and everyone around them fades until he can see nothing but Sam. He blurts it out before he can stop himself, "Marry me this summer, baby. Marry me and make me the biggest PR nightmare this league has ever had."

Tears well up in Sam's eyes, and he swallows before he speaks, "well, how can a guy say no to that?"

"So is that a yes? I mean, I don't have a ring or anything, and I didn't call your dad yet."

"Can we get a puppy?" Sam asks with wide eyes.

"What? Like now?"

"No, you idiot. This summer," Sam says as he pats the side of John's face.

"Sure, babe, whatever you want. Ten puppies if that's what it takes. I'll give you anything. Everything. Forever."

"Ok. I'll marry you."

"That was the deal breaker? Puppies?"

"Duh."

John wraps his arms around Sam and kisses him. The kissing doesn't stop at just one, and there is a collective sound of throats clearing around them.

He can hear his mom is crying in the front seat, and one of his sisters is taking a picture of them. Sam is crying, and John can't help it.

"I love you, Sam."

"God, Johnny, I love you too, so much."

"I have no idea what we are doing," John says, truthfully.

"Guess we are winging it together, like we always have."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He's at center ice feeling like a million bucks and about to take a face off against Kesler with the game tied at 3-3, when it happens.

"Your girlfriend looks adorable in your jersey, sweetheart. I bet I know why his nickname is Gags...probably nothing to do with your dick size though," Kesler says looking towards Sam and waving.

John is burning in anger, but ignores the comments and leans down to wait for the puck in the ref's hand.

"You deaf, fuckface?" Kesler continues as he skates closer to John and looking down at him, "C'mon, I just want to know one thing."

"Enough, Kesler! This is a friendly game, boys, save it!" the ref says pushing Kesler backwards.

John stands up and moves until he is almost nose to nose with him, "jealous that my boyfriend is hotter than your wife?"

The ref is yelling at them and pushing them apart.

"Are you fucking serious? Gags is one ugly motherfucker!" Kesler says emphasizing each word he says.

John pushes him, and the crowd roars.

Kesler continues trying to agitate him, "So when you are fucking him from behind, which I assume you are the man in the relationship, do you hold those dumbo ears or---"

"HEY HEY NO, JOHNNY!" The ref yells. He obviously saw it coming.

John cross checks Kesler in the mouth hard, before he finishes that sentence. Kesler retaliates with a spear to John's groin, with the end of his stick. John's immediately hit from behind by Doughty, who punches him in the back of his head at least 4 times.

John, is disoriented and goes down to the ice hard. His balls are in agony, and he's sick to his stomach. He manages to get to his feet and goes at Kesler swinging. He hits him twice before Kesler swings back, blood pouring from his lips where John split them.

The brawl erupts from there, with the fans all screaming and banging on the glass. The refs are desperately trying to separate them, having lost control of everyone, and he can see several of his teammates have come over the boards and are on the ice fighting. Doughty grabs him from behind, knocking his helmet off and screaming in his ear, "bet Kesler just broke your dick. Your boyfriend is going to be so sad!"

Kesler gets two good sucker punches in on his face since Doughty is holding his arms. They are all brought down to the ice by Hallsy, who hits Doughty like a truck from behind. John's cheek hits the ice first, splitting the skin. Doughty and Hallsy are wrestling on the ice, and John tries to get to his feet, again.

There is yelling all around him and several fights going on. Breathing heavily and in agonizing pain, he steadies himself, only to be hit by Carter in the mouth, again. He feels his teeth break. The linesmen are dragging a screaming, blood spitting Kesler away from them, when McDonagh hits Carter.

Ovi grabs John from behind and skates him backwards out of the scrum, while Faulk and Jonesy act as a barrier to anyone else coming at him. He's hauled straight down the tunnel by two trainers, aware he is bleeding heavily from his lips, mouth, and his cheek. There is a towel being held to his face.

The crowd is all on their feet and screaming. Several times he hears "Fuck you, pussy!" being yelled at him, as he is heading down the tunnel. He has no idea what in the hell just happened out there.

He's taken straight to the quiet room and he can hear Sam in the hallway screaming at someone to be let in the room. There is so much yelling. John throws up. He's holding his groin and pulling his knees up, as far as he can. He can hear someone yelling at Sam to calm down or they will throw him out. He hears Kaner's voice talking to Sam.

"John, we gotta get your gear off, come on," someone says as they are pushing his shoulders to roll him over.

He rolls over onto his back, and the pain flares everywhere. They cut his jersey and undershirt off and his pants and pads, someone else is pulling his skates and socks off, while they are going through a systematic list of questions that he answers with no problems.

They also check his eyes, quickly determining he doesn't have any first signs of a concussion. They cut his cup and compression shorts off, checking to make sure his "boys" are both still there.

Finally, the door is opened and Sam is allowed in. He comes right over to John, who is back in the fetal position, protecting his groin. Sam leans down and kisses John's forehead and nuzzles his nose, while the medical staff move around him. Sam asks them for a blanket to cover John, and doesn't say much, moving to stand off to the side with his arms crossed. They roll John back over and start prepping him for a trip to the ER.

Despite his pleas not to go, they are making him go for precautionary measures, and he is pissed.

"John, they want to make sure your dick isn't really broken" Sam says.

"Oh God, it's definitely broken." John groans.

Sam comes back over and leans down into his ear whispering, "I hope not, we have an engagement to celebrate, and I'm gonna need it."

John smiles. _Yessss_

"Would you like to ride with him?" someone asks Sam.

"Yeah, let me tell his parents where we are going," Sam answers.

John watches him walk out the door, his eyes heavy now with the painkillers they gave him when they started the IV. He doesn't wake back up until they are at the hospital and someone is shaking him awake. More medical staff and more questions.

After a round of testing on his head and an ultrasound on his groin, he is released early on Monday morning. He heads to the hotel with his family, Sam, and 54 stitches in his face. His dick isn't broken, thank god, but his teeth implants are. Sam snaps a picture of him shirtless with a broken tooth grin and a very swollen, stitched face. He posts it on Twitter with the hashtag #GROSS.

A total of 176 penalty minutes were assessed in the Metro's defeat over the Pacific 4-3 on Simmond's game winning goal. The league issues a statement saying no further reviews will be made of the brawl, and the Department of Player Safety will not get involved.

The media shitstorm that follows leaves a lot of unanswered questions. Kesler refuses to admit the fight started over John's alleged relationship with Sam, and John and Sam refuse to admit they are in a relationship. PR for both Sam and John would like them to do a tell all conference, but that’s going to have to wait.

John is going to give Sam what he asked for. Hockey first. Summer and Sam will be there when the season ends. The engagement gives them a compromise they can finally find peace with and one good reason to stay together.

 

**EPILOGUE**

The season continued with the Isles coming up 1 point short of the playoffs. John suffered a strain in his hamstring just ten days before the end of the regular season, and he had hoped to return in time for game 3 of the first round. Instead, he headed to Columbus to watch Sam and the Jackets make a run.

Sam and the Columbus Blue Jackets won the Stanley Cup on June 12th, having defeated the Blackhawks 4-3 in game 7. John was there with his family and Sam's. He proudly wore his Gagner jersey and displayed his new teeth every time he smiled during the playoffs. They didn't do much hiding of their relationship from the media during the Cup celebrations that followed.

They got married at the family lake cabin on August 9th, Sam's cup day. The wedding was small, and consisted of just a few close friends, some teammates, immediate family, and Lord Stanley's Cup, of course. Their favorite wedding picture was the one they took with Bo, their new Chocolate Lab puppy, sitting in the Cup on the dock of the lake.

On September 1st, John and Sam sit before a large group of press in Toronto. With the group of reporters chatting loudly and jockeying for position in the room, John taps the mic. The room goes completely silent.

John takes a drink of water and swallows. Looking at Sam, his confidence rises with the smile his husband gives him.

He leans forward into the mic and says, "my name is John Tavares and I'm the captain of the New York Islanders." He looks at Sam and waits.

Sam smiles with tears in his eyes and, without looking away from John, he leans forward and says into the mic, "and I'm Sam Gagner-Tavares, forward for the Columbus Blue Jackets, 2017 Stanley Cup winner, and John's husband."

There is an eruption of camera clicks and blinding flashes as the room explodes with noise.

**Author's Note:**

> I tried to stick to the schedules as close as possible. All errors are my own, and because I had to make things work. The fight scene at the game is brutal, so if that's not your thing, don't read this. I am absolutely sure that Drew Doughty, Jeff Carter, and Ryan Kesler are wonderful people, but they are easy targets to make villains. I am also sure they are not homophobic assholes, but someone had to be.


End file.
